


Storebought Sketchbooks

by tofubbq



Series: Sketchbooks and Wristwatches [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, dad Spy tries to figure out how to be a dad?, lots of headcanon stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofubbq/pseuds/tofubbq
Summary: Spy stumbles across Scout's room, and learns some things he didn't know about the younger mercenary.





	1. Chapter 1

The Spy had to remind himself to lower his standards every time he stepped into the Scout’s room. It was a voluntary, but necessary act - though he found that every time he thought he had mentally prepared himself for the disaster that surely awaited him, he never was. He took a moment to collect his expectations so he could set them aside before turning the doorknob and opening the door.

He was expecting a mess alright, but he what he wasn’t expecting was what he saw all over the floor of his room. 

Several sketch books, along with pencils and pens were scattered all over the ground. Spy knew that Scout drew in his spare time, but he didn’t know it was to this extent. One of them in particular caught his eye, and he found himself picking it up without thinking. It felt almost wrong to go through his belongings like this, but… his curiosity got the better of him, as always.

The drawing that had been facing upwards when he picked up the sketchbook depicted the outside of their team’s base. It was impressive how many small details had been included in the sketch, such as a glass bottle laying on its side by the entrance, or the lettering on the side of a crate that had been painstakingly replicated by hand. Even the texture of the concrete had been drawn in. It was obvious a lot of care had been taken in drawing it.

The rest of the pages of the particular sketchbook was filled with other environmental and still life studies, all familiar places that the team had been sent to on different missions. The still life was of various objects found around the base, like his own bat (that one was a given), but also some of the other mercenaries's belongings. He was caught offguard when he discovered a few drawings of his watches and gloves amongst the pages - he always made sure to keep his possessions locked away or on him at all times, so how could the Scout have gotten such a good look at them?

He put the sketchbook down and picked up another one. On the first page, there was some scribbled out portraits of their teammates - himself included. It was clear these were quickly drawn, but each face was distinctly read as each individual. For example, he had perfectlg captured the diabolical grin of the Medic, or... the disappointment written all over the Spy. Now that was a face that the Scout saw often. There was no doubt he had little trouble in drawing that one. 

As he looked through the drawings, something stood out to him. He had so many sketches of other people, but he couldn't find any self portraits anywhere. He flipped through the pages, scanning each of them thoroughly. Spy almost missed it - it was on the back of one of the pages, easily missed if one wasn't looking for it. It was hard to make out under all of the scratches, but there was a few attempts at drawing himself. One of the tries had a hole punched through it with the pencil, and another had been erased so much that the paper itself had been worn thin. Others had pencil marks dug so deeply into them that it had transferred onto the pages underneath it. It was as if he had taken particular care in destroying each and every image, disfiguring them to the point where the Spy had to look at them closely to figure out what they were.

He had always thought of the Scout as being full of himself and confident, so how come his sketchbook seemed to tell another story? The sudden realization hit him, and he nearly dropped the sketchbook. This whole time... was this how he had thought of himself? Was his hot air and bickering all a ruse?

Here he believed he was the one with the most elaborate mask on. He was wrong. A real master of disguise, that was-

The Spy heard the door creak behind him. In an instant, he had activated his invisibility cloak and vanished from sight before the Scout opened the door fully. He moved to press his back up against the wall, watching as the male started to pick his art supplies up off of the ground. Scout opened his desk drawer and shoved them inside before closing it. Except for one sketchbook and a pencil, which he dropped onto his desk. He took a seat and opened it to a fresh new page and started working away.

Spy watched him for a little while before edging back towards the door. He tiptoed out, making sure not to make a noise as he crept out.

There was a lot to take in, and he wasn't sure sure where to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Spy was used to women who fell easily for a well timed wink or a compliment uttered in their ear. So when he came across her, he was taken by surprise - or perhaps, it was better described as a whirlwind. She held more wit than she showed, and he could feel every inch of him watched every moment he spent with her. It was as if a pair of security cameras were trained on him at all times, deciphering his little actions and reactions... and it had excited him. How many people had he met in his entire lifetime? How many dinners, outings, fake dates had he gone on throughout his career? Yet, after all that time spent with others, there was only one woman who had captured his interest, and kept it in a headlock.

It was that same look that her son had. Maybe not to the same intensity, but it was still there. Spy felt foolish for only just taking notice of it. Him, who considered himself an expert when it came to predicting others and reading their expressions... How could he, of all people, not notice it? Any casual observer wouldn't have noticed anything off, but the way he stared back at him, his blue eyes filled with both confusion and concern -

"Spy? Do I have something on my face?"

Spy blinked, abruptly pulled from his thoughts and back to the present. He hadn't realized, but for the last few minutes he had been staring at the poor boy sitting beside him at the dinner table. Even a couple of the others had taken noticed of him and were giving him looks. 

"It's nothing." He looked away from him again, turning his attention back to the meal in front of him. He still kept his ears open, listening in on the Scout's conversation with the Sniper and the Heavy across the table. 

"So anyway," Scout leaned across the table, grinning smugly, "I asked her... 'got any upsexy?'" Spy rolled his eyes. He'd heard this joke a hundred times too many, and he was positive the story had never actually happened. If anything, the male was recalling the amount of times he had rehearsed the joke in front of his own reflection in the mirror.

"What's upsexy?" Heavy asked, his arms folded over his chest.

"Nothin' much, what's up with you?" It took Spy all of his will power not to smack him upside the head. The only thing that stopped him was hearing a low chuckle from the Heavy. He glanced over to see the Sniper cracking a smile as well, though they both went stony-faced as soon as they noticed the Spy looking at them. 

He sighed and looked back down at his food. It was misshapen pile of black... something. It was burnt beyond recognition, leaving behind a blob that was somehow revolting despite not quite looking like anything at all. As well, it looked exactly how Spy felt like on the inside. He did wonder briefly who kept leaving Pyro and Soldier responsible for making their dinner. At least Scout's "hotdog and potato chip submarine sandwiches" were digestible compared to this mush. 

He looked to his other side, noticing that the Medic was poking at his own plate. No... He had several test tubes laying on the table, and he was in the process of carefully picking up a sample of the food with a pair of tweezers. The German held it up to his eye, examining it through a.. was that a microscope he had set up? It looked like he was experimenting on their dinner... Spy felt his stomach churn at the thought. He decided it would be best for him to excuse himself from the meal before he lost his appetite altogether. And his lunch, at that.

He stepped out of the base for a quick smoke right after. The cool air would help to clear his mind and reorganize himself, or at least help settle his stomach. His mind drifted back to what he had been thinking about before his thoughts had been interrupted by Scout's interjection. 

The boy reminded him so much of his mother, but in many other ways, himself. It was for the latter reason why he found it so difficult to be in the same room as him, and even more so lately after his recent snooping in Scout's bedroom. It was no secret to the other mercenaries how similar the two were in personality... yet also quite different. Where Scout had a more solid grasp on his own sense of self, Spy -

If it was possible for someone to choke on their own thought, Spy did. He took a deep breath, but the thought had disappeared as suddenly as it had crossed his mind, much like the smoke from his cigarette dwindled into the crisp, night air. Enough musing about himself, he decided. It was his son he was worried about, not himself. He had already done enough thinking for himself for the past few decades, it couldn't hurt for him to think about somebody else for once.

That was what he told himself, anyway. 

He turned into his room early that night, his mind already working away at possible solutions for the situation at hand. It may be too many years late for him to start looking out for his son more closely... but wasn't late better than never?

He only hoped that was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, didn't expect this fic to get so much interest, it was just a random idea that was stewing in my brain.
> 
> The plot's going slowly, but I swear it's going (somewhere).


End file.
